Home
by fadedmystery
Summary: He is battered and bloodied, but he is home and that is all that matters. Another Peter/Susan fic.


**A.N:** Hey there! I'm back with a new one…this is a short piece, I know, but my muse struck me and kept on poking me until I finished this. Kindly recall the scene in A Good Night's Sleep, wherein Susan reminds Peter of that terrible battle and how worried she was when she thought she'd lost him….this is that story.

Apart from this, I have written a few other pieces (As I said, my muse went into overdrive) and a 3-chapter story. I plan to post them gradually. As always, the usual warnings regarding the themes apply, but for those who read this, again, thank you and enjoy!

**Home**

**Written by: fadedmystery**

She has never known real fear until now.

She often prides herself on being a strong person--gentle of heart, but with a solid character and unwavering composure. This is Narnia's Queen, she thinks. This is the Queen they know her to be.

Not anymore.

"Peter isn't…doing well…" a bloodied Edmund had managed to gasp before falling on the stone steps of the Cair Paravel's entrance, wounded and worn. His arrival had been unannounced, and they all knew that if he had allowed himself to leave the front while the rest were fighting, then it must be grave, far more dangerous than they had thought.

When Susan had heard his words, her blood had run cold.

So now here she sits, resuming her nightly vigil over her younger brother, watching over him as he sleeps fitfully. Scars and bruises adorn his body, and if not for Lucy's cordial, perhaps all might have been lost.

Her gaze travels to him, and she can barely stop the tears that threaten to fall from her face at the thought of him, or their men still out there fighting….of Peter.

Susan knows she must be strong, but her fear is overwhelming, choking her, wrapping her in a tight cloak of anxiety and terror. And so the sob escapes her anyway, slow at first, then wracking.

What makes this a bitterer pill to swallow is the fact that she and Peter hadn't parted on good terms. Moments before the boys had ridden away into battle, she'd exchanged heated words with him, arguing that it felt as though Narnia was stepping into a trap by participating. The thought that she might never see him again to apologize, to talk, to never see his smile or hear his laugh again…it is maddening.

Peter has always been the eldest, their 'father' of sorts…always there, always caring and protective. She might never say it to anyone, but the knowledge that he is there makes her feel safe and calm. And without him…somehow, she doesn't feel whole.

She needs him.

In what way, she isn't sure, but she does.

And that frightens her most of all.

..-*-*-*-*-*-..

It is perhaps several sunlit days…weeks, maybe. Do the days even matter now? Susan thinks as she sits in her room, spirits low and out of her mind with worry. As per her strict instructions, Edmund is still in his bedchamber, resting, for though he is out of danger, he still has to recover his strength. He'd argued, to be sure, but one withering look from her had set him quiet.

Come to think of it, she thinks with a wry--no, it cannot exactly be considered a smile--she hadn't been the easiest person to get along with these days. Gone is her unwavering composure; in its place are frazzled nerves. She hasn't slept a wink since her younger brother had brought the news, and her constant pacing and worry are making her rather snappish.

Her gaze turns to the great, wide window, a sigh escaping her lips. She cannot count how many times she has wished to see him ride past, cannot count how many times in a day she had wished to see him, alivr and well. Susan turns back and bows her head, clasping her hands in prayer.

_Please keep him safe. _

Then, she hears it. Almost like…a trumpet. So faint…could it be? _No_, she tells herself, sighing in resignation.

And yet…

The door slams open, and she looks up to see Lucy excitedly flailing her arms as she enters. "Susan, Susan, come quick! Peter's returned!"

Her heart stops.

She does not know how she manages, nor is she fully aware of her actions, but in that next instant she is running as fast as she can toward the gates. Her heart is pounding wildly now, full of hopes and wishes and….

Her breathing hitches. Her heart comes to a stop yet again (funny, really, how that happens). There are blaring trumpets, and joyful cries of the Narnians are all around, but she sees or hears none of them.

She sees only _him_.

His garments are worn and caked with dirt and blood, torn and severed. His hair is matted onto his forehead, damp with rainwater and sweat. Bruises and cuts press their harsh kisses upon his skin, and his expression is pained, almost fierce. His eyes are a sharp, almost cold blue, and even as he limps and struggles to walk unaided (She could tell that he'd refused his soldiers' help) his hand is perched on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles clenched so tightly that they are disturbingly white.

And then their eyes meet for the first time in many days, and for a moment, she forgets how to breathe.

"Susan," is the first word he says, a clear whisper, soft even through the rough tones of his voice, breathing ragged. And without thinking twice, she runs to him and wraps her arms around his neck, resting her head against the welcome crook of his shoulder. His hands are on her waist now, holding her tightly, her body flush against the warm skin of his chest.

"I was so afraid," she whispers, muffled through the material of his clothing, but clear to him all the same. He feels a dampness in his shoulder, and realizes that Susan's body is shaking from sobs. Cries of relief, of joy.

Tears of happiness. For him.

He doesn't know if he's received a more wonderful gift than that.

"I'm here now," he says gently. The rest of Narnia has disappeared for him—let them stare, he thinks. Let them think whatever they want--for now he is content to have her in his arms, to hold her in a way that he's always wanted to, no matter that she didn't know the real reason, the real emotion behind it.

"When Edmund came back…without you…" Her tone is a strangled, anguished whisper as she looks up at him, tears streaking her cheeks. He reaches out a hand to brush away the liquid pearls that stream down her face, a lump forming in his throat--her eyes are revealing her heartache, her pain, and he doesn't think he can bear to see her like this.

"I promised I'd be back, didn't I?" he says, a small smile upturning the corners of his mouth for the first time. "After all, you didn't really think I'd leave the three of you to rule Narnia by yourselves, did you? What would've happened to our kingdom then?"

Susan musters a laugh that turns into a cry that transforms into a laugh again as she buries herself in his embrace again, listening to his heart beat, her own stable and light for the first time in many days.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I don't think I could've lived with myself if I wasn't able to apologize before you--"Her voice trails off, breaking into another sob.

"Shh," he soothes. "I'm sorry too. And you needn't worry." He tipped her chin to face him. "There was absolutely no way that I was going to allow myself to die without setting things right between us." A small smile makes its way to his features. "Something tells me you'd never let me really rest in peace if I hadn't."

She hits his shoulder at his attempt at humor, but he is glad when he sees the corners of her mouth upturn slightly. "Don't you dare give me, give _us_, that sort of scare again," she warns him with mock severity. "Don't…" her voice trails off suddenly into a mere whisper; such a request is difficult to articulate with only just words, but once their eyes meet again, she knows he understands.

"I won't, Susan," he promises as he strokes her hair, softly, lovingly. "I won't ever leave you--any of you--ever again."

She merely gives a sigh of relief, of contentment, of love as she rests into his embrace once again, wishing that she could stay like this forever. In that one solitary moment, realization dawns on her like a bright of a new day: She loves him, not just as a brother but as so much more. The knowledge should make her scared, make her apprehensive, disgusted even, she knows, but instead, a slow smile curves her lips.

He is battered and bloodied. But he is _home_.

And that is all that matters.


End file.
